Soletrar and Adriente
by ShellQueensie
Summary: Sometimes you have to give up something for love. Sometimes you need to fight for love. Sometimes, there are people who fight those they love. Sadly, there are cases where you may not know you are fighting loved ones. That is the case for Paperinik, and his two lovers, who created their own alter egos, but not for the right reasons.
1. Chapter 1

He swore he tried to duck the attempted strangle of cuddling, but instead his body accepted it, and he was now on the floor with one of his lovers almost choking him into their chest. He was too fatigued to use what muscle could be possibly left over to use to hug back. He just let his lover treasure his feathers and presence, after such a long night of waiting.

"Mi amor," he heard a whimper, and whatever feeling he felt before this transitioned into some guilt, not enough to touch him. He buried his beak further to show his apologies.

"Sorry, I worked a little bit later than usual," he felt himself loosen a bit. He suddenly felt comfortable in the topless rooster's grip and would force him to not let go.

"'A _little bit_ later than usual'? It's been six hours!" There was some amusement in that vociferation. He still heard concern and disturbance. He felt as if he couldn't do anything about it, which yes, he could. If he pushed himself to just try. He didn't, instead, he closed his eyes once more and almost tended to sleep.

"Well, at least your home. It's Saturday tomorrow anyways," he kissed Donald's weary face and picked him up immediately, jerking the duck back into consciousness. There was a groan, and Panchito kissed him once again. "José is out back, he couldn't sleep without you either."

This was all a guilt-fest, and he cursed at himself more than necessary. Panchito didn't mean to make him feel bad, he didn't mean for him to feel horrible for his "night job". The night job Panchito was oblivious to the truth of.

Donald whispered a sorry and received another kiss. At this point, it was getting annoying but was met the blankets of their large bed, and he didn't feel the peevishness quite anymore. He turned to his side, hoping the rooster would lay next to him and wrap his powerful arms around him safely.

He felt more comfortable and satisfied when Panchito does just that. When as expected came smoothly to him, he still doesn't feel complete. Now, he was moaning unintentionally. Everything was wrong once again. He was missing something, no, someone. He wanted someone here with them. But he couldn't go get him. He was too weak. He was not inside the house, and Donald couldn't be even more quietly distressed.

"Where is José?"

* * *

His hands were still gloved. They made him feel even more heated and irritated. But, he was far too interested in the papers than to remove the small clothing. He hardly noticed anything like that, and it wasn't like him at all. He was aware of everything, which he didn't tell himself, but that's what people say about him. They call him aware and patient. At this moment, he was everything but.

He seemed so still, so settled, so… untroubled. He wasn't, no matter how much it seemed. It was all a lie, he cursed. He wasn't happy, he was screaming, he was crying. No tears or signs of hurt came. He remained not as he appeared to be.

He was so great at this. He could hide everything from everyone. It helped so much, with him and his lovers. His talent was remarkable, useful. It was getting out of hand.

He has been keeping this all a secret for far too long. He was screaming, but wasn't. His mind was spinning, but his eyes stayed on the paper. The bill. The damned papel.

The handmade shed Panchito has organized for them felt like it started to shrink. It caused him to feel even more irritated. But he was still. He was crying. He was scared to the point of delusion.

Yet he seemed so fine.

"We can't live," he mumbled. He didn't care if he sounded paranoid. Was anyone listening? That he couldn't care about either. The whole point he goes into the shed was to not be interrupted or to be with anyone around him. He did the paperwork faster this way. It was his job of the house, to get the bills paid.

But lately, he has been feeling hostile coming into this small shed. He felt not himself at all. Tonight may have been a breaking point, but from how he was doing in his seat, he wasn't quite there yet.

He cursed again and finally let a fist slam into the wooden table. The impact knocked over the collection of pens and pencils. The mess should bug him, but he hardly noticed. If he did, he wouldn't clean it anyways. He would let the mess stay there as his way to blame the repulsive aura from the hell that was this shed. The shed brought him misery, it brought him to anger, the anger he could try to control. He felt himself break somehow every time he came to do papers. He wasn't gonna be able to take it anymore he knew, but tonight, he was surprisingly strong, but he didn't feel that way about it at all. He thought he was doing terrible.

He thought he was doing god awful, and he let out a for real, angry, growl escape his beak. His green feathers perked up, he has finally had it.

He was done.

He didn't care about the massive bill anymore, he didn't care about the shed, he just didn't care! He was finished for tonight. Whatever was in store for him for his actions didn't cross his mind.

He slammed the shed's door and marched to the back door of their small house. He was gonna slam that door as well once he got inside, but the sense of an inviting soul dwelling in his mind made him halt. He felt reality peak back, and he remembered how to breathe again.

Donald was back home. José now finally knew how to smile again after so many hours.

He closed the door properly and walked to their room quietly. They may be asleep for all he knew, and the house was old and boisterous. The floors were unusually creaky, especially during the night, when it was the most silent. It was something he likes about the night, how everything was at peace. He, was usually at peace, but tonight was so different. He, was so different.

Whatever effort he used to not alarm his boyfriends came in handy. He was at the entrance or of their bedroom and naturally made his way in, not saying a word. He didn't think his voice was tranquil enough to use.

The bed was more than welcoming, and so was the nice comfort of his two tired boyfriends. He smiled once more when Donald opened his eyes, smiling back at him. Panchito remained asleep.

"Hey," a white hand moved slowly to José's pillow. José gladly took it into his own and laid down on the bed. The feeling made him not feel so small anymore. He wasn't trapped, he was free. He was free to look into Donald's eyes.

"Hola," he kissed Donald's hand and rested his eyes, ignoring the blankets. He was far too hot to let the blankets drape his body.

"You still have your gloves on," Donald chuckled. José opened his eyes to see the bright yellow fabric gently wrapped in Donald's white fingers. He bit his lip to prevent a laugh. As much as he didn't want to do it, he let go of Donald's hand and removed the gloves. They made him feel so sweaty, and he grimaced. He shouldn't let Donald feel how gross he is.

Donald took his hands anyways when the gloves were set to the side. He squeezed them lightly and shut his eyes. The world suddenly stopped when he felt José's forehead connect with his.

Before they knew it, all three of them were sleeping peacefully. No nightmares plagued them that night, or any dreams, it was a fast sleep. And in the morning, they didn't need to get up. They could be with each other just a little longer, all connected.

Just what Donald wished for his entire time of that night's battle.


	2. Chapter 2

"Calm, Panchie," José ran his fingers across the rooster's beak, meeting with sharp and chipped edges. It made them both flinch whenever José accidentally jammed his finger lightly, but he just kept his assuring and cultivated smile, humming along to the radio. It was in the afternoon, a time set for Panchito's favorite station to play it's greatest music. José started to enjoy it too, Donald, not so much. But the tunes started to become familiar to the parrot, especially this song. It was slow, and it matched perfectly with his rhythm as he sang from beneath his throat.

He calmed his lover this way.

Panchito's eyes were sealed as José raised sharp clippers to his face. It started to not feel like anything anymore, thanks to the magic-like feathers of José's hand. He has been in this position before, within José's grasp, almost drifting to rest. It felt like heaven whenever this would happen, and he wasn't gonna take this heavenly moment for granted, he never does. He is just so glad this wasn't rare at all. José touching Panchito lightly and carefully was never rare, José wouldn't dare let that be a possibility. And Panchito smiled at this fact.

The _clip_ and _clip_ sounded away, and Panchito has lost count of the times the disturbing sound pierced his ears. He was falling deeper into the dark faze, José's singing hypnotizing him into slumber. He lost himself completely.

"I'm going shopping!" Donald shouted from the living room. Panchito jerked out of José's hands.

The rooster was lucky José missed the small broken part of his beak, or else it would have torn off more than wished for, then there would be a new mess other than the twisted part of a keratin bone.

José placed his hand back onto Panchito's cheek, turning his focus towards the living space. "Okay! Please be safe!" Then suddenly they were back to business once Donald shut the door.

It didn't take long for Panchito to be at ease again, but it wasn't long either for José to finally be done. It made Panchito sigh, slightly annoyed. The sensation was gone.

"Finalmente," José placed the clippers down next to the broken beak parts, which were gathered on a paper towel, "We're all done." He wiped Panchito's beak, then placed a small kiss on the beak's tip, standing up to clean up the table. Panchito stood up to help as he was too focused on the strange feeling spewing across his orange beak. He moved his mouth around, just making it feel even stranger.

"Thank you, meu querido," José spoke once the mess was gone. Panchito looked at him when he met those gentle hands again, feeling his clean beak.

"No, gracias to you, José," he gripped his own hands to José's, "You did something I should have done for myself." He closed his eyes again as José stroked the now sleek beak.

"You would have hurt yourself."

"I'm aware," Panchito kissed the green feathers. Everything was still, except for their travelling hands.

The kisses Panchito displayed across José's hand journeyed through the parrot's arm, to his shoulder, then neck, cheeks, slowly to his final destination. José giggled at this act, moving his face away to keep Panchito moving along. The avoidance was fruitless, and José had his lips connected to his lover's.

The atmosphere was warm and subtle. The arms snaking around each other's torso's were just the same.

It took a while, but they finally separated when José insisted he had to go back into the shed, remembering something vital. He forgot exactly what _was_ vital, but it just came to his memory during the kiss. He remembered but still forgot. Panchito let him go anyways, pecking José's beak quick before the parrot could walk away and out the back door.

He didn't close the door since he was just gonna fetch something. It didn't bug Panchito, except it was a rather cold day. José had no issue with the weather, but Panchito wasn't quite used its bitterness, instead of comfortable with higher heat. He let the wind annoy him before José came back in, closing the door completely.

In the Brazilian's hands were some envelopes and folded pieces of paper. What he was trying to find was in there, he just couldn't spend the time in the shed to look through for it. He'd find it at the table of their house once the door was closed and he was sitting down. He rummaged through the papers, Panchito trying to find a small snack to fill in a weird feeling in his stomach.

No matter the food that Panchito ate, the peculiar sensation didn't leave. He wasn't hungry, but he wasn't sick, yet he felt like both. He turned to José to see if he at all knew what could be bothering Panchito like this. It was how José was stuck and emotionless that told him everything.

* * *

Donald looked through the aisles of food and house supplies, meeting with whatever he could remember that they needed. Sometimes he can forget, and today, he forgot his grocery list. His anger already beat him to the punch once he began remembering in the car, but not too amenable to turn back and go get it. He didn't have the audacity to grab his phone and text either of his lovers to find the list and send a clear picture of it.

Something about pride, that was it. It made a huge difference, especially during this time of their relationship. Already Panchito made a better opponent with his leadership and powerful attitude. The way his chest drew out when he was proud and satisfied during hard times, times that Donald swore he had the control to handle himself. He didn't, though even now, he is still sure of it that he can have the control.

He kicked himself for thinking about Panchito like this. He was _his_ lovable rooster, who he vowed to love and respect, no matter what. It is in their song, no matter where they go, they're always together. At least, that is what he reminds himself every time his mind gets feisty over something insanely mundane. Power wasn't important to the three of them. Or, it shouldn't, but they did like the idea of another having the upper hand. Sometimes there needs to be a leader and followers. Donald wanted to be the upper hand, he always did, and he seemed to be qualified.

'Paperinik would agree,' Donald looked through one of the store's mirrors. Nicely clean for display, with some fingerprints from children getting too touchy. Donald laughed at the thought, there was probably a mother there with those children, yelling at them not to touch everything they see. Donald knows he's been there. He's been there with the triplets, and, hilariously, the biggest manchild he's ever loved, Panchito.

He couldn't stop thinking about them. About his two lovers. They've been on his mind forever. During times he should be thinking about something else, sometimes, someone else. Nighttime fights, he should be thinking about getting the bad guy(s) into prison and not capable to disturb the innocent. He instead thinks about what if those bad guys got to José and Panchito. What effect could happen to them if they dared touched them? Dare even speak to them. It was a silly thought that came to him almost every night he fights with someone, or something. He shouldn't think about it like that. It's not under his control sometimes, and it messed with his work, just like last night.

Donald was on the ground with whatever he picked out of his basket and onto the floor. He bumped into something, that is what he thinks, but a hand coming into view to pick him up, and a sweet voice saying "Sorry about that," filling his hearing. A woman's voice, a kind-hearted and gentle one, a voice that made him comfortable to take her hand and prop himself back up. He had his mind on picking the groceries up, and she was kind enough to help him.

"I'm so very sorry about that sir, I should have checked where I was going." She handed him the final can off the ground, and he put it into the basket.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I had my mind stuck in space as well," he laughed, and she kindly joined in. She was nice enough that he told her his name out of a feeling she may try to talk again. Just a feeling. A spark of friendship, and it seemed ludicrous, but he knows a good friend when he sees one. "I'm Donald Duck."

"Miley Meadowlark," her gray beak kept it's pretty smile, her black eyes welcoming a conversation, and he thought he had the time.

They went around the store for whatever the other one needed, changing subject to subject to get to know each other. Apparently, Miley works for Duckburg's busiest bank, recently gaining a promotion, hence why she's decided to go shopping instead of relying on her girlfriend to do that for her.

Donald smiled, "I have two boyfriends," he immediately realized how that sounded, too late to take it back. "W-Wait, it ain't like that! I-I'm not cheating or anything, they love each other too, i-it's… um…" Miley's hand settled on his shoulder as he panicked.

"It's fine Donald, you're completely okay! I know what you mean," her hand left after it was clear he was relieved. He wasn't rejected from another friendship this time. It's only been two hours.

But, he should be getting home soon. Maybe another thirty minutes. Miley wanted to know more about his lovers anyways, and he was more than happy to discuss them with her, with pretty much anyone who was willing to listen. Who he felt comfortable talking about them too. He didn't know himself when he talked about too much or not enough, but he knows when it's too far or too much information. So he kept somethings brief, and Miley was clearly listening. She seemed to like José and Panchito based on what Donald mentioned about them.

"They're both Latinos?"

"Yep," he smiled, "Their accents are very strong."

She stayed silent while still smiling. "My girlfriend is Hawaiian, but she has a normal voice. I can still hear a good accent sometimes, though." She grabbed possibly the last thing she needed. He could tell by the amount of stuff in her cart that she has enough stuff, as for him, he didn't know at this point, but his basket was rather heavy.

They went into the same line to talk a little more, but it wasn't about their lovers. It was, strange to Donald know that he thinks about it, but at that moment, it didn't come across to him as a strange thing to discuss.

"I never have a good enough sleeping schedule," Miley admits. Donald can relate, for a reason he didn't know if he was proud of or a little ashamed.

He could be home sleeping in José and Panchito's arms, but instead shooting a monster or criminal, someone or something he believes he hates. He should be with people he loves, not someone he's trying to stop. But, he loves his night job, and it was worth the large attention he got from Duckburg's appreciation.

"Neither do I. I'm spending my time at work trying too hard, but never finding myself ready to sleep at night. I'm... pretty restless." Donald was in front of Miley, already setting his groceries out for the cashier to scan. "But yet I'm still always tired."

Miley made a small hum, "My focus is too much on my bank than it is on my home. On my girlfriend, even. Work, sometimes can be very stressful when it just started to be kind to you." That was true, at least sometimes. Donald has dealt with nice enough jobs. But, once he got used to the workplace, he's automatically dismissed for whatever reason. Sometimes it's his temper, or, sometimes something else. There are different reasons to get fired, and Donald may have met with a large variety of them.

Donald had his things ready to go and had his grocery bags in his hands. Miley said her car was several rows away, to a different store almost. Donald's was just out front, so he let Miley get stuff done and leave her alone.

"Give me a call sometimes Donald." She handed him a small sheet of paper. He was aware of what it was, so he put it in his pocket and walked away, saying his goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

He stared at something, Panchito could see. He didn't have the view to see what José was fixated on, but he knew it wasn't anything positively advantageous for him or maybe all three of them. The feeling in his gut was clear how he was upset. Uncomfortable to scared and concerned.

"What is that José?" He walked over to the parrot's side, eyes trying to catch anything appalling before José quickly moved the paper out of sight.

"Nothing," he said quickly, Panchito not gathering anything fast enough to spot something worth José to have such a response.

José folded the mystery paper and stored it in his pocket, "Nothing, why?" He could fool anyone with the way his voice mimicked such a fresh tune of a calming song. A way to quiet the storms from numerous fights with Donald or from already seen experience to pacify Panchito down, and it did once again. He almost forgot wholly why he wanted to know about the sheet of paper, to begin with.

"I don't know, it just seemed like it was making you upset." He pretended like he was gonna let the whole thing go when in reality, he'd be tricky again and scrutinize over José to get maybe just a tiny glimpse. Maybe José would forget the paper in his pocket and take his clothes to the washer, and while he wasn't looking, Panchito could grab it. The chances of thievery spiraled his head and he couldn't hear at all José explain himself.

"I've just been very tired," José lowered. He got up from his chair and realized Panchito's absence to this moment. He made a silent moan and pushed in his chair, "I don't think you'll understand." He didn't mean to sound hard or give any hint of his behavior to their situation. He didn't look Panchito in the eye while he made his way back to the door, closing it before Panchito could ask.

"What do you mean 'I won't understand?' José!"

He gawked at the door, trying to put two and two together, but finding it too difficult to concentrate. José said he was tired, but tired of what? If he'd been tired, Panchito would have noticed. And José never liked to tell a lie, so he knows the paper from before is causing him to be tired and might have been a reminder that ruined his bright attitude at the time.

His thirst to know more about the paper piqued him. It could be anything, for all he knows, it could be damaging. Just the possibilities of what could be printed or written made Panchito feel motivated to walk to their back door and walk to José's special small shed. They never keep secrets from each other. And out of pure coincidence, it had to be José, the one who came up with the promise to never lie during their relationship ever, to be the one to break it.

He counted his steps out of manner, not reaching their door yet. Already feeling the adrenaline, he thought to stop. José wanted his privacy, probably, and it would be silly to budge in without warning.

He'll just knock, Panchito told himself.

But, no, it was fair! With José's uncanny behavior and obvious secret just screaming in Panchito's face. Not only that, but José was just asking Panchito to be inquisitive, to come to get him. To barge in.

He hurried his steps until he was at the shed, but still very far from the door.

Maybe this wasn't a big deal and he was making himself look like a tonto. Absolutely loca.

He softly came towards the door, raising his fist to knock, probably making a too powerful of knock, or maybe not powerful enough.

Maybe he was doing the right thing by not ignoring this red flag. And he knows he's let some red flags slide before, knowing the consequences. He wondered for a second about the consequence of not worrying about this one, but it left once José opened the door.

His green feathers risen and his breathing was forced as if he wanted to let somethings out for quite a while. The red surrounding the comely brown said the same.

"José…"

"What's wrong Panchie?" His smile was fake, as well as the now crystal eyes that erased any signs of difficulty. The magic deceived him before, but Panchito was confident that during these times, he knows José a lot more than the parrot could comprehend.

"I think I should be asking you that," Panchito put his hand on the door frame, a way to not make José close him out anymore. He wasn't calm at that moment, but he rested his body against the shed.

It wasn't browbeating, not to him, and usually José and he can agree on what things count as intimidating. But how José runs across the shed to his desk caused Panchito to think he made the wrong move, that he scared José into a corner. The idea was scaring to Panchito itself when all he wanted was answers.

He moved his hand away from the shed to reach out for José, and his beak opened before he could gag back down any words.

José came running back with the mystery paper, as Panchito thought, scared. The paper was placed into Panchito's hand. José grabbed onto the white wrist and forced it up against the rooster's chest, and an uncharacteristically impatient way to make him read it. Never José could be this way, and Panchito didn't hesitate to look and answer his most burning question.

"I don't know what to do about it Panchito," José's voice shrunk like he's been crying for hours. He could have been, really Panchito has been too modest about this entire tribulation to keep up with how long he could have been figuring out this mystery. Maybe it could have been fifteen minutes in the least.

Panchito didn't even start reading it yet, and already he felt it was something he could never resolve. Something precarious, which, probably when witnessing this reaction from his usually self-possessed mate, could be the case.

He moved his free hand to José's shoulder to tell him to calm down so he could read clearly. It was like he got more terrified every passing second, and the way Panchito moved his thumb massagingly didn't help at all.

Panchito couldn't understand, no matter how he may repeat his reading from the top. It was a bill, he knows that, but he still has no idea about American money.

Before he could ask, José budged in, "We're in debt."

Panchito looked up, paper falling in his hand to his waist. He blinked, "How much?"

José noticed Panchito's hand was still rested on his shoulder, which he used to further sense his lover's confusion. Even if not told, Panchito knew it wasn't good either way, even if he doesn't understand the amount.

"More than 20,000 dollars," José knew Panchito wouldn't understand, but he really had no way to tell what amount counts from Panchito's country. He still knew Panchito was scared about this, how terrible it seems, and he could clearly see the paper. It was a terrifying number regardless.

Suddenly speechless and again staring at the paper, Panchito dropped his hand from José's shoulder, trying to understand what to do now. Really, what could they do?

Panchito didn't have the answer. He could tell from the way José was crying how he had no clue either, if he did, he would keep himself collected. He would be babbling away about a plan to fix this, but really they both knew that there wasn't a single light shining. Not a switch flipped. And now they both stood there eyeing the paper and oblivious to how much time has passed.

A cricket chirps and makes José look out to their yard. The sky was a beautiful dark blue with purple and orange, street lights already switched on even with enough clear view to the streets already. He knew it was late and that their Donald should be home by now.

He was probably inside their house right now, watching from a window and asking himself why are they so stoned cold in place. Or perhaps he is taking a nap on the chaise lounge or watching television, waiting for them to come inside and join him. It would sound pleasing if the money wasn't on his mind, on both their minds. Now, they have to tell Donald, and he too has to deal with this.

"We need to go inside Panchie." He took the paper out of the rooster's hands and back into his own pocket, turning his eyes to Panchito's one last time before making their way back into the house. Where they should expect Donald.

Once the door was closed and they had the guts to go into their living room, their expectations weren't met. Donald must have been here since the TV was playing the news and the remote was about ready to sink into the couch again. There was also the sense of an early night snack in the kitchen, something Donald always has after a long day. But his presence wasn't anywhere. Panchito and José didn't know whether they were disappointed or relieved.

"Donald?" Panchito shouted, hoping to hear a reply from upstairs perhaps, or maybe from outside on the porch, where Donald could be getting fresh air. Seeing as the door was wide open from the hall, he wasn't surprised he didn't notice it before. He lowkey wished he didn't notice it at all. It made him feel a lot more sick.

"José," he called out. His parrot was quick to get behind him, seeing the door and feeling the same sickness as Panchito did.

José quickly went for his phone, texting Donald where he could be if he had his phone on him anyways. It was a doubt, since he forgets it a lot when in a hustle, which José prayed is what happened instead of anything else.

He almost felt like bawling again until Donald's voice was received from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Donal'! Where are you?" Panchito moved next to José, pressing the side of his head closer to the phone.

"I- uh- forgot something at the store so I went back real quick!" He sounded ready to hang up, and although José was sure Donald would like to continue talking, his voice sounded hurried. He didn't want to make Donald lose his breath.

"Okay, well, we'll be waiting for you." José walked to shut the door. He heard Donald hang up before he could finish, and it hurt just a little. It wasn't something to get upset about, and he saved the complaints for later for the larger heartbreak.

Panchito and he met at the living room again, but Panchito was anything but miserable, not thinking about their future being in jeopardy.

His eyes were cemented onto the screen. Something shown as light shined again in Panchito's eyes, and José found himself being amused to the sight like always. Panchito overly enjoying himself or gaining an idea that seems sumptuous and astonishingly genius to him. Donald and José disagreed with most of those ideas, some being shockingly practical and handy.

José looked at the screen, trying to listen to whatever the anchorman reported. He thought it was his brain being numb, but the mute sign was up on the top left of the screen, and he went for the remote to tune it up.

 _"We finally got a full report from last night's robbery of The Lessar Bank. The robbers in question were two men who lived outside of Duckburg, whose names remain anonymous. They were handed over to the police by our hero Paperinik and were subjugated from the stolen money, immediately taken to jail after police questioned The Duck Avenger. According to the hero and the police, no one was harmed or injured. The robbery began prematurely after one of the men set off the bomb before the rest of the employees left their post. There is now a large set of damage done to the bank, which would keep employees from their workspace until the most damage is out of their way._

 _The men have stolen at least two thousand dollars within the five minutes they had within the bank's safe._

 _Both men are expected to court in the next following week…"_

José switched the channel to whatever television had set for their schedule. It was strange how the mood shifted, as if that really did anything for them.

It didn't, it shouldn't. It, really once José thought about it, both he and Panchito saw a light.

Something flickered between the two of them. They both had an idea, but it was an awful one, a sickening one, something that neither the two of them would be ever honorable to admit crossed even the lowest parts of their minds.

It was disturbing, but really, what other choice did they have?

That question spammed José's mind when Panchito looked at him dead in the eye. As if he was gonna say it, but it wasn't necessary. He knew what he was thinking. José shook his head anyway.

"No, we can't Panchie," he looked away, down to the remote and out of a habit to do it, dialed the sports channel. No team he liked was playing, so he muted the TV.

Panchito walked over and snatched the remote smoothly out of José's hand. "José… you know how increíble y mágico you are right?" It made José smile even when he knew where Panchito was trying to go with this.

"Panchito, I'm serious, we just can't-"

"And it's not like I want to either José, never would I ever. But..." His white hands gripped green ones tightly, trying to find any correct words. Anything right to say at all, but he knows there are none. Nothing is correct or right at all right now. It's too much for even him to handle.

"I don't know what to do," Panchito wasn't crying, his eyes were dry, along with his voice.

José didn't want to look at him, it would just urge him further to break, and he is a very strong bird. More than anyone could get him credit for. All three of them were strong, but they experienced fear and dealt with it separately.

A robbery wasn't the answer. Doing bad to make things good was never the answer. He usually thinks that putting the whole world first before your loved ones is a harsh and heartbreaking decision, but he always chooses the whole world. The other people experiencing such a crime are a larger set than Donald and Panchito, and the group of the innocents he should try to take into consideration first. The sad part is, he never does. It's always Donald and Panchito first. And it's a complicated ride on whether to feel guilty about that or about how he doesn't want to put them first.

Hands gripped tighter for a rescue, for an answer. A solution other than the one given. Panchito relies heavily on José a lot. José makes things work for them perfectly. Sadly at this moment, it wasn't perfect. Neither he have a clue.

José looked back to the television. The advertisements nagged him on about their money, about how they're now homeless. How they won't have a home in the following week and instead will rely on Donald's family, which isn't gonna be appealing to Donald either.

They're gonna lose everything.

José let a few tears drip before finally giving in, "Somos pecaminosos."

Panchito had a small smile, lifting José's hands to his lips, "Sí, tales pecadores."


	4. Chapter 4

He didn't like how _bland_ tonight seemed to be.

He also didn't like how he would focus on the crisp and irksome wind and how it would blow down is neck instead of paying attention to some forthcoming warfare with a lunatic, or army of lunatics. He didn't like how not one single gizmo needed to be pulled out from his belt and aimed, arguably, safely onto an enemy to hold them pawn. He didn't like how his stomach started to hurt from a bruise given from the night earlier, and how little contact or consideration was given onto the mark. He didn't like the reality that yes, there are times the city needs him, and times where he can go home to his mates and rest. He possibly hates the fact that he dislikes the idea of going home, even more, endangering himself missing a calamity.

In general, he just hates how peaceful it can be at night sometimes, instead of what he was used to. So much can happen during the day, maybe too much can happen all at once. And in a shock, Donald could focus on only one thing during the night, instead of so much. It was always serene, and suppose he would hate that too, but there he was, expecting the peace to diminish when a bomb or alarm set off.

How he wanted that, but it never came when he needed it to. He needed something to happen, or he would be shifting building to building, being worried over nothing.

A small thought tells him to call his loves, to see if they're alright, but he imagined the worse outcomes out of the gesticulation. Possibly he would wake them up. He hopes that at least they are asleep during this hour and not waiting for him like they usually tend to do. Hopefully, if he calls, they don't sense that maybe, just maybe, he is Paperinik, currently dealing with a vexatious wind rushing into his face and into his phone speaker. So, with those in mind, he didn't try. He wandered around aimlessly, thinking about hating tonight and everything wrong with it.

With a tedious taste in his mouth and itchy sense under his mask, he grunted and turned around, directing towards home. He already started to withdraw his suit as he swiftly ran expeditious into the shadows and onto the streets, uniforms being switched between the small amount of time he had in the darkened parts of every alley. When finally in his sailor uniform, he stuffed his gadgets into the small foldable bag he always brings, then walked out onto the street roads where lights shined onto the sidewalks.

He walked casually and acted like there wasn't anything to hide, just in case of any passing car or other residents. It was a large city with a greater population, so he suspected some people to pass him on the streets even this late. Especially where he was headed, which wasn't even close to loosely populated. There was a lot of people he would come across every night after every battle, so he didn't expect anything different.

He didn't expect a moving brush at the small neighborhood park.

It was something he could let go as a goofy animal, he supposed, if he hadn't had experience with tricky criminals. Anyone who had not gone through the same job every night and same training, would be fooled about whatever could cause a racket, not being cautious and instead continue on into the dark night. Donald was cautious, very - very cautious, and the bush moving around like that was in no way in his mind a miniature squirrel nor bird.

He was sure he wasn't paranoid, but just to be sure, he calmly reached into the bag to grab onto one of his weapons. He felt the trigger of his grappling gun, and he thought it would be ideal to catch the person in question by tying them up.

He didn't question to himself if he was gonna inadvertently catch a young child or innocent civilian. Sure, he had his reflexes, but he knew timing meant everything, and he can spot a criminal versus an innocent.

He hadn't stopped to look at the bush any longer, continuing on home to make it seem like he let the obvious give away go. Whatever this person or thing had planned wasn't gonna work, Donald told himself. Whatever game they/it was performing was gonna end, and he'd be taken to the authorities. Then Donald can finally go home.

The rustlings of the brushes had stopped when he was at the entrance sign of the park. It was a pleasant square, Donald could remember. He hadn't been there since he and his sister were youngsters. He also remembers the absurd reason they stopped going there, because of their favorite tree being cut down. They carved their names into the tree with a butter knife their parents brought for a family picnic, getting in trouble just moments after when some stranger told their mom and dad about what they have down to the piece of wood. He doesn't remember what they had said to them, but it was probably over-dramatic nonsense that Donald wouldn't have kept as advice even if he did remember their words.

The thought that maybe what they said would be useful in a situation like this ticked him off even more. He didn't need their advice, he was a superhero, they would be listening to him instead. But, there was a small doubt in his gut that stayed with him whenever he fights an opponent, that maybe what they said was beneficial, but he just had to forget. He forgot a lot of things about his parents.

The memory of the butterknife flashed before him when he heard a small 'shrink' inside from the park fence. The last thing you want to do, even as a trained and experienced fighter, was to warn the rival that you know they are there. Donald would know, and amusingly, if you knew he was The Duck Avenger, he'd tell you how the battle turned out for him when he made that stupid mistake.

He continued to walk down the sidewalk at the same pace with the same none-suspicious temper. He knew the production of sweat was ready to drip from his forehead, and he blasphemed at himself for still being panicked after all this time. All heroes must be like this, always scared but brave enough to stand on their own and for their own. It comforted Donald whenever he thought about it like that, that he is brave, just like every other hero. He is _brave_.

"Here ducky-ducky~"

The knife that made the blood-curdling sound was eluded when Donald ducked and elbowed the secret person in the shins. The knife didn't hit the ground, but the attacker held onto it and moved down after the connection, earning a punch from Donald and a broken nose. Then, the knife hit the ground, but the man was still standing.

The duck did one last punch to the guy's face and a kick to his kneecap, likely busting it and making the much larger man fall down onto the street and into a puddle. Donald knew the man wouldn't try to get up, already being taken down, but not declaring surrender. It wasn't needed, Donald was already binding the guy up without the man struggling back.

The guy's voice was scratchy and grated. He smelt of smoke and alcohol, and not the familiar scent like from his José Donald relished so much, but more of a stench from a typical person abuser. It made anyone want to barf, knowing the person and the way he smelled. He was nothing but a worthless mess, trying to hurt others to seem important to himself as if he at all had a purpose. A purpose to annihilate, the least he could do. Donald snickered, even this excuse of a criminal did terrible at that. The duck didn't even need his suit on.

"If you try to escape, I will also give you a broken jaw." Donald threatened when dialing the police, eyeing the man down, who quivered from the pain and his imagination of receiving more of it. The guy was clearly intoxicated. Wasted enough to not know the reason of being in a hospital bed the moment he wakes up the next morning, with bandages on his face and a cast around his leg.

He finished his report to the operator, who kept him on the phone the entire time until the police appeared. The wait wasn't long, but it didn't really matter to Donald. He could be there all night with the guy and still be able to knock this man down even if he's sober.

The ambulance came and took the man out of the puddle and into the truck. Police asked for any harm done to Donald, getting a no and that he was completely fine.

They asked more questions, where all the answers came back as gratifying but quite a hysteria. The fact someone like Donald with his length and structure could beat up a much bigger man, one that was armed let's not forget, was humorous. Donald laughed along with them about the situation, and they offered him a ride back to his house.

It was what Donald wanted at the moment, his house still some ways away. So he happily accepted it and was in the front seat of the car heading home to José and Panchito. Their names lifted him and he couldn't wait to get there, to see their responses when they see him being brought home by a policeman. If they were awake of course, and he sort of assumed they weren't.

The lights were on when they pulled up into the driveway, and he frowned when he noticed Panchito's face peeping out from behind the living room curtain, startled to see a police car. A second later there was also José looking out to, the alike expression on his face, and Donald felt himself beam again and giggle.

The two birds left the window and presumably bolted to open the front door, it was only seconds until Donald saw Panchito leaping onto the porch and José observing from the doorway. Donald felt he was grinning widely when he stepped out, and so were his two lovers, who Donald felt was very relieved.

Panchito ran down the porch steps and was already greeting his duck with a crushing embrace. Donald saw José slowly making two steps down, only to stop to talk to the officer about what has occurred.

José's face said it all, and Donald wished he could hear what the policeman was saying, but the way Panchito was freaking out and clutching him so powerfully made the mallard lose focus on their words and instead on how extreme the hug started to be.

He was still trapped in muscular arms but was extricated up. He figured Panchito must have heard the part about Donald's self-defense or the reason why he had to use it in the first place. He assumed the latter because Panchito's face went into a scowl just seconds later, and the officer must have brought up the knife.

Donald put in the energy to separate himself from the rooster's hug, only making himself trapped tighter and tighter the more he attempted to leave. He thought why resist it, and just allowed himself to settle into his lover's chest. His heartbeat was fast and he felt the air of hostility leave the rooster's feathers and tapped Donald's like waves. There was no way Panchito was gonna let Donald sleep tonight without a complete search of new and unasked wounds.

José and the officer seemed just about ready to finish their conversation when they both shook hands and the parrot saying a kind 'thank you so much' to the policeman, who nodded with a smile and a last goodbye. He got into his car and left before Donald knew it, and then the duck was being carried into the house.

He didn't have time to speak until he met with the couch, his very concerned rooster boyfriend raising up his uniform to search around his feathers.

"Panchito, I'm fine," he scratched out and booted his webbed feet softly onto the rooster's stomach, trying to push him away.

He knew the rooster would not be convinced and would proceed to look around thoughtfully, preening merely from the sense to do so, even if Donald fidgeted. "I swear Panchito, I'm okay. I just want to go to bed."

"Let me see you first, pato." José kneeled in front of the couch and looked at Donald's belly and chest. He had the talent to catch things, not very visible things. But José had those strange types of talents, and Donald didn't try to stop him from using them to his aid. But he still shivered and freaked from the possibility of finding anything serious, and he prayed hard wordlessly that the parrot didn't.

The rooster lifted Donald up for José to look at the duck's back, where he didn't find anything either. He was more concerned about his spine, where the guy tried to stab him, but he didn't feel anything too grave, not even a cut. Maybe just a small bruise from the man's knee, and that's all Donald could expect at that moment. Obviously, José and Panchito were expecting way worse, not knowledgeable of what Donald was really capable of.

Donald thought he could lay his head back down onto the armrest, but instead was lifted up lightly by Panchito once again, guiding themselves to their bedroom to lastly get some sleep, Donald hoped. Just the view of the bed and the delicate comforter made Donald sigh and hang his head, willingly welcoming the sheets to meet with his back once Panchito set him down, José right behind them the hold time. Donald thought for a second how scary it was how he didn't hear José at all while being brought up here, but it was shrugged off, José always being the soundless character he was at the best of times.

Panchito got in from the left side of Donald, José from the right, who decided to take Donald's uniform off once he was resting on the bed with his green legs hanging from the side. Once Donald was topless, Panchito began to preen him and envelop his arms around him once again, the white feathers from the rooster's arms blending in with Donald's.

José joined in a laid down with them when he was wearing nothing either. He preened Donald's head as Panchito preened his chest and shoulders.

Just this moment made Donald gradually sigh and belly flutter with warmth, not really expecting this calm reaction out of the two, and instead just a long time staying up and bandaging spots that clearly did not need that type of attention. Everything was pretty nice, just like this night that he before hated so much, until the confrontation with the unusual and nasty fellow from the park.

Donald sort of wondered at that moment if José and Panchito would have been granting him this type of gestures if he didn't witness that this night. Something in his mind said yes, while somewhere else buried down told him a bitter no. It wouldn't be like this, for what Donald knew. It wouldn't be this touchy and special, and probably much less reassuring.

José susurrated something, not in Donald's ear, so the duck had no way of determining what the parrot had said. He was tired to ask, instead making a little 'hmm?' to make it seem like he didn't quite catch it. José repeated himself, but louder this time, "Do you feel any more pain?" He still muttered, but it wasn't noisy enough for Panchito to catch and to make a bustle about if Donald had answered yes.

The duck nodded, "Yeah, on my leg," he moved his knee up a bit, the knee he used to fracture the man's leg.

He winced when he noticed the movement of José's hand coming to meet with the spot Donald tried to point out, shaking when the fine touch from José's fingers calmly meet the mark. Donald felt José shift his beak to lean into the side of Donald's face to whisper again, "It's okay bebê, I promise this won't hurt."

Trusting the resonance and how José gently nuzzled into the sensitive part of Donald's neck, the duck moved his knee into the parrot's hand. The sensation thrilled and Donald could have sworn he saw a green light shine from underneath the feathered hand. He was too overtired to keep his mind on it, the strange trick José was doing was putting Donald into some sort of haze, making the duck more tired than before.

"W-What did you do, babe?" Donald moved his beak to touch José's, who he felt smile.

José kissed the duck's cheek and removed his hand from the now healthier knee, which drew a meager whine from the duck after the connection was now gone. "Oh, nothing, just gently rubbed the pain away." The answer was pleasing enough, and Donald let himself try to drift to slumber with José touching him all over from his chest to his delicate stomach, rubbing the pain away, as he had said.


End file.
